Like most big-framed men who have a sense of rhythm, Baird danced well, though a little lazily. He found Judith an exhilarating partner. A touch of languor would have made her an exquisite dancer, but Baird discovered that her apparently soft curves covered muscles of tempered steel; there was subdued energy and swift grace in every movement of hers; no wonder she was a perfect horsewoman. During their first dance Baird told Judith, in his downright fashion, that she was the most delightful hostess he had ever known and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; a "wonder-woman" he called her, which, for Nickolas Baird, was a poetic flight. When they danced again, he begged her to set him his task: "What is it you are going to ask of me, Wonder-woman?... I've never had the least inclination to became a knight until I met you. I'm aching to swear allegiance--what is it I'm to do for you?" Baird was accustomed to making love somewhat roughly and altogether carelessly, he merely yielded a little to habit when he held Judith closely and spoke in her ear. Nevertheless, it was plain to even an onlooker that the spell of profound respect was upon him. It made his rough strength appealing, the sort of appeal a young man of Baird's virile type usually makes to a woman older than himself. What he was asking was how best to please her; his forgetfulness implied restrained impetuosity, not presumption. And evidently he pleased Judith; her occasional upward glance was not disapproving. So Colonel Dickenson thought as he watched them dance. He had forsaken the dining-room for the moment, and, avoiding the drawing-room where the elder women were gathered, had come by the veranda to the ballroom. He had a jovial remark for each couple as they circled by him, and for Judith and Baird also: "I couldn't trip it more lightly myself--damme if I could!" But Judith had caught his eye. "I see Cousin Ridley over there--I'm afraid I'm wanted," she said, when the dance was over. "That's the penalty I pay for being 'a delightful hostess.'" If her lips had been fuller they would have pouted. "Can't you be allowed a little respite?" Baird exclaimed. "I want another dance--and another after that!" Judith smiled and shook her head. "But you haven't told me what I'm to do for you, yet, Wonder-woman?" "It must wait.... There will be some square dances by and by, and an even number of couples without us." "And we can go to the porch--somewhere where we can talk--where it is cool?" Judith made a little affirmative gesture. "I'll do my duty till then," Baird said bruskly. "I hate dancing--except with you." She allowed him to capture her intimate glance, but the instant she had turned away her face settled into gravity, an expression both hard and apprehensive. It made her look more nearly her age. "What is it, Ridley?" she asked sharply. "Anything wrong--up-stairs?"